


this soft moment, at long last (the world owes us)

by EllaYuki



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (well kind of), Canon Compliant, Feels, First Kiss, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Episode: s13e23 Let the Good Times Roll, Post-Season/Series 13, Stupid Boys, post-Michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 11:46:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14933666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllaYuki/pseuds/EllaYuki
Summary: After they manage to get Dean back from Michael, he and Castiel talk (read: argue) and finally resolve things between them.





	this soft moment, at long last (the world owes us)

Every inch of Dean’s body hurts but he supposes he should be grateful he got off easy. He still remembers the state Raphael’s vessel had been in after the archangel had vacated the premises.

What he  _doesn’t_  really appreciate right now, though, even though he understands the reason behind it, is Cas shouting at him again. Dean’s head hurts, and they’ve already argued about this earlier, so he’d have thought he’d get a bit of reprieve for the evening.

But  _no_.

No, Castiel seems like he still has a hell of a lot more to say on the apparent stupidity of Dean’s decision to trust Michael and let him in months ago.

‘Cas!’ he almost shouts, in an attempt to cut off the angel’s rant. ‘Could you just- knock it off already! I get it! Okay? I do. It was stupid and reckless and thoughtless and everything. I  _get_  it. You’re right. But I’m okay now, everything’s alright now. That asshat’s gone and I’ve learned my lesson. So.  _Please_. I’m tired, man, let me get some rest. I don’t even remember the last time I got any actual sleep.’ He’s run out of breath by the time he’s finished. Damn, he really is freakin’ exhausted.

He looks at Cas, hoping for some understanding or something, but the angel’s face is twisted in barely contained rage. Rage and something that looks an awful lot like hurt. It reminds Dean of an alleyway years and years ago, and it makes him swallow past the sudden knot in his throat.

‘C’mon, Cas-‘ he starts, trying to pacify his friend, but it actually seems to make him snap.

Before Dean knows it, Cas has rounded the bed, crossing the few feet of space between them, and has pulled Dean close by the front of his shirt. Yeah, definitely flashback from that alleyway. Dean squeezes his eyes shut, more reflex than actual fear that Cas will hurt him, though.

‘You  _don’t get it,_ ’ Cas says, voice tight, angry, hurt. Dean opens his eyes and meets Cas’ blue gaze head-on, inhaling sharply. ‘After all this time, you  _still don’t get it_ , you  _ass!_ ’

And Dean doesn’t have time to ask what, barely manages to open his mouth before Cas hauls him in and kisses him, hard.

And  _oh_.

_Okay_.

_They're actually-_

He starts breathing again when he feels the solid wall of his room against his back and realizes Cas has pushed him up against it. He also realizes that he’s been kissing Cas back just as forcefully.

After a few more moments, Cas finally pulls back, just enough to break the kiss, but doesn’t step away, just holds Dean pressed against the wall, and Dean… can’t actually say he minds right now. His entire family could come in right this moment and he wouldn’t care. The only thing he cares about is-

‘Cas,’ he breathes, and the angel rests his forehead against Dean’s. There’s nothing but the sound of their breathing for a while, a few minutes that feel like a small eternity to Dean.

‘After everything we’ve been through, after how hard we’ve fought so that Michael wouldn’t get his hands on you back then, after  _everything_  that’s been sacrificed,’ and Dean can’t help the wince that those words elicit, the guilt, ‘you  _still_ …’

Cas pulls back just enough to look Dean in the eyes, and Dean’s breath hitches in his throat at the intensity of it. He swallows.

‘You know I had to, Cas,’ he insists, because even now, he still believes that. ‘Lucifer would have killed Sam and Jack, you know he would have. And  _maybe_  the kid would have been able to gank his ass if he’d still had his Grace, but he  _didn’t_ , so what was I supposed to do? Let them get killed? Jack was a bloody mess and he was holding that archangel blade  _pointed at his own chest_  when I got there.’ And that had been an image that Dean will never be able to get out of his head. Even more so after Sam told him Jack had offered to kill himself so that Sam wouldn’t have to die. Dean has  _really_  misjudged the kid, and he hates himself even more for it.

Cas still looks at him, and after a few seconds, he sighs (and the sound of it breaks Deans heart just a little bit more). Slowly, he pulls back, takes a step away, and releases Dean. Sits heavily on Dean’s bed.

And really, it’s such a rare sight, this, that Dean can’t make himself look away. He doesn’t really want to. Slowly, he lets himself slide down the wall until he’s sitting down.

They sit there in silence for a while, just looking at each other, taking each other in, counting their blessings that they are both still here, in this moment, still alive, still themselves, still…

Still together, even after everything the world’s thrown at them throughout the years.

Minutes (centuries,  _eons_ ) later, Dean sighs and closes his eyes, leans his head against the wall. Dammit, he is so tired. Tired of the fight, tired of the pain, and also tired of denying himself. He’s just… tired. He’s freakin’  _exhausted_.

He opens his eyes and looks at Cas again, at the soft, pained look on his face. Yeah, Dean is tired of it all.

With a grunt of effort, he pushes himself off the ground and steps closer to the bed and Cas. The angel looks up at him, with something like wary curiosity in his eyes, but doesn’t say anything, doesn't move away.

Dean lays a hand on Cas’ shoulder, something familiar to ground himself, and when Cas tilts his head ever so slightly to one side (yet another achingly familiar thing), Dean leans down and kisses him, soft, gentle, full of all the words and all the feelings, the longing he’s bottled up for so long. His free hand comes up to card through the hair at Cas’ nape, cradles the back of his head.

After a moment's hesitation, Cas kisses back, lips moving against Dean’s in something like hopeful reverence, his hands cradling Dean’s face, holding him close. It’s such a contrast to their earlier kiss that was all pained anger and desperation, and it makes Dean a bit light-headed. But still, he wants more. He wants everything Cas is willing to give him.

‘Cas,’ he breathes in between one kiss and the next, ‘Cas, Cas, Cas,’ and maybe it’s a prayer, at this point Dean can’t tell anymore. But he knows, he just knows that Cas understands him, especially when he bites Dean’s own name into Dean’s bottom lip every other kiss.

And it’s easy, so easy, to give in to everything they both want. For the first time in his life, Dean doesn’t second-guess himself or his decisions or  _anything_  and just… lets himself have.

He lets himself have what he wants as well as what he needs, knowing he will have no regrets afterwards.


End file.
